


Remember How I Made You Scream

by FeelsForBreakfast



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsForBreakfast/pseuds/FeelsForBreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s dirty and a little bit wrong, but at this point they’re both pretty used to that.</p><p>5k of feelings and gratuitous wall sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember How I Made You Scream

It’s two thirty am and Zayn is wired, wound up and ticking down, chest tight as he sits at the bar and watches. He likes parties, he likes dancing and drinking and slick skin but he also likes watching, brooding and falling deep inside his mind where almost no one can find him. He loves it really, like he’s in a bubble, watching the world unfold around him.

It’s Liam’s bachelor party, and due to Louis’ dubious planning skills they’ve ended up at some posh strip joint, tanned women slinking around on platforms like they know more than everyone in the room. He likes that almost more than he likes their bodies, the way they walk like they have a secret. He knows a little bit about secrets.

He swirls his drink around and takes a slow sip as he flicks his eyes over his bandmates. He’s not getting wasted tonight, though the temptation to get plastered on expensive fruity drinks is sliding around the back of his mind. Still, he wants to remember this, the last night when he wasn’t quite hers yet. Not that you can own a person, but Zayn likes to think that there’s a little piece of Liam that belongs to him. 

The rest of the band has evidently decided not to take the same route. Harry’s managed to get himself nearly onto one of the stages, white button down rumpled and open completely down the front. Louis is in stitches on the floor behind him, drink dangerously close to spilling, a grin splitting his face.

Niall’s chatting up (drunkenly hitting on) some pretty brunette with fake tits and a tinkling laugh, who Zayn’s pretty sure is about two drinks from going home with him. Even Liam is tipsy, stumbling a little bit as he joins Louis in the act of lobbing dollar bills at Harry as he pulls ridiculous faces and slides slowly out of his shirt.

Zayn finds his eyes sliding away from the curly haired boy, falling on Liam’s broad shoulders even as guilt washes through him. He wasn’t going to do this anymore, this staring thing, because Liam is eventually going to look up and meet his eyes, but tonight he can’t be fucked to stop. And it’s not like Liam ever really notices what’s going on anyway.

Zayn likes the way he stands, strong posture and strong hands that he tucks into his pockets when he doesn’t know what to with them. The way he licks his lips before he talks, how soft they are, the crooked tilt to his cupid’s bow; because at this point Zayn really knows far too much about Liam’s lips. 

He’s got on a pair of criminally tight pants and red converse, looking just how he does when their stylists dress him, all crisp and wholesome. Or at least thats how he looked at the beginning of the night. He’s acquired a slight air of debauchery now, something dirty in the way he long ago shed his tight suit jacket, light blue button down rolled to his elbows, buttoned open just a little too low to be decent. Its not tucked in anymore, falling against his tightly clothed hips, and Zayn just wants to rip the fabric off, run his fingers over hot skin. 

He knows just what it would feel like, knows how every corner of Liam’s body tastes. He takes a quick sip of his drink, squeezing his eyes shut as the alcohol slides around his mouth. 

Maybe he does want to get drunk tonight.

He downs the remaining liquid in one quick gulp, tearing his eyes from Liam and moving to where some pretty black girl is doing jerking body rolls. He watches her, fingers itching for a smoke, for something to put his hands on. He’s supposed to be having fun, and he knows that eventually Louis is going to notice that he’s barely done anything but mope all night, but right now he doesn’t care. 

It’s only kind of a surprise when he feels a chin hook over his shoulder, but it is a little bit surprising that the owner of the chin is Liam. He gives him a soft smile, a painful mix of emotions twisting at the heady smell of his cologne and the the reek of alcohol. “Having fun?” Zayn asks, taking advantage of Liam’s inebriation to lean against his warm chest, tilting their heads together. 

Liam laughs, low and throaty in a way that vibrates through Zayn’s body, and he’s never wanted him more. He wants to drink him up, hold him just one more time and never let go, and it hurts more than anything. “You’re so broody tonight, Zayn.”

And he is, and he knows that somewhere in his mind Liam knows why, but he’s halfway drunk and Zayn hopes that he isn’t the only one of them who is forgetting why he’s supposed to stay away. He’s been with her, he’s always been with her, but Liam’s good at rationalizing this thing that they have and Zayn isn’t going to stop him.

Zayn opens his mouth to speak, trying to think of something to say to placate Liam, something that would allow him to go back to running his eyes over the lines of Liam’s body and drinking the feelings out of his system. 

But all that comes out of his mouth is three words, not really the ones he means, but the ones he can still say, a prayer and a question neither of them have ever been able to say no to. “I want you.”

Liam stills behind him, his crinkly grin falling into a frown. Zayn slips out from underneath his chin, turning to look at him. Zayn knows just how this works, what to do to get what he wants, and he wasn’t going to but he needs it just one last time. It’s not like he ever kid himself into thinking he was anything other than selfish when it came to Liam.

He hoods his eyes, fingers resting on the buttons of his tight navy jacket as he stares up through his eyelashes, swiping his tongue over his lips. Liam looks like he always does, a war raging behind his eyes as he tries to reconcile everything he’s feeling with everything he should be feeling. It’s a fun battle to watch, and Zayn’s seen it more times than he can count, as Liam’s thirst overpowers his excuses.

Liam licks his lips in return, an unconscious mirroring action that draws a smirk across Zayn’s face because Liam really isn’t all that good at controlling his desires, it’s one of Zayn’s favorite flaws. 

It’s not really like Liam has many, he’s gorgeous, sweet, and actually pretty close to perfect. When it really comes down to it, his flaw is Zayn, and Zayn quite likes it that way. 

So when Liam flicks his eyes around to see if anyone is watching and then gives a quick affirmative head nod, it’s really not a surprise. 

Zayn smiles and feels the guilt push around his stomach. It’s not so bad anymore, just a slight uncomfortable pressure that reminds him that he’s being cruel not letting Liam go. But then, Liam was the one who started it.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Zayn says softly, the ache to touch him nearly painful. He wants this so badly, like hot coals deep inside his flesh, a thrumming need that wont go away until he’s filled himself up with Liam. Until he’s so dizzy he’s forgotten what it’s like to hurt. “I think you should too.”

It’s an inadequate place for their last time really, he thinks as he turns for the door, dirty and secret and almost sad. It’s not warm like Liam’s eyes when he looks over at him in the middle of an interview, soft like the curve of his collarbone, or comforting in the way Liam’s arms always feel.

But he guesses it is partially fitting, filthy like the first time they fucked in the back room of a venue, the secret that bores a hole in their pockets, empty the way the hotel rooms used to feel when Liam wouldn’t meet his eyes quite the same way in the morning. 

He clicks the door shut, standing in the stupidly fancy bathroom, finding his face in the mirror. There’s something foreign in his reflection and he lets out a sigh, undoing the button on his jacket and wondering when he became this person. He supposes he’s the homewrecker here, the stupid boy who’s the only thing keeping Liam from being happily married, but then Danielle has always felt to him like the other woman.

Maybe it’s because he and Liam practically live together, that he’s his best friend and she’s just that pretty girl he loves. Zayn steps slowly across the white tile floor, setting his hands on the pristine porcelain of the sink, ducking his head and taking deep breaths as he reminds himself that this is what he wanted.

The low thrum of music and conversation leaks through the wooden door and Zayn turns to lean up against the sink, trying his best to look cool and collected. It seems like eons before the doorknob turns, plenty of time for Zayn to think himself into a panic and then back again, enough time to know how awful he is for letting this go on. 

It’s only when Liam enters, when he closes the door softly behind him and clicks the lock that Zayn remembers why he does all this. Because after all this time, all the stupid shit he’s had to put up with, Liam has always been his weakness, the only thing he would allow to hurt him.

Liam looks up at him with those puppy dog eyes of his, pleading with him like he always does. Zayn knows the drill. No one can know. I know we said we wouldn’t do it again but I want you. It’s only sex, it’s not cheating if it’s only sex. And the best: this is the last time.

It never is.

He skips the introduction, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, eyes just this side of needy. “This is the last time.”

Zayn says his line, sliding his jacket to the ground, taking in this moment and committing it to memory -the way the light hits Liam’s face, the feel of the sink against his back, just how he smells- so he won’t forget. “I know.”

Liam slips off his button down, fabric sliding off toned muscles so Zayn can see his chest. The low light of the bathroom fixture shadows him and highlights the contours of his body, the flex of his biceps as he sets his shirt down, broad shoulders moving as he straightens again. 

Liam often looks cute, he’s got a sweet smile and huge brown eyes, but he’s different like this, darker somehow. Zayn likes it, the way his eyes get intense and possessive, hands clutching, mouth set in a serious line when it isn’t pressed to Zayn’s. It’s almost like he’s concentrating, like he’s simultaneously afraid he’s going to break Zayn and also like he wants to destroy him.

Their gazes lock, an almost palpable energy filling the muted quiet. It feels wrong, but then it’s always felt a little bit wrong, and they’re both pretty used to it by now. Zayn’s fingers come to the hem of his tee shirt, beginning to bring it over his head, but Liam steps forward, putting his hands over Zayn’s.

“Let me.” He slowly pulls the cotton up, revealing Zayn’s chest, the ink there stark against his olive skin.That’s the worst part about Liam really, that he’s gentle even when he’s not. He has a way of killing Zayn kindly that makes it all that much worse.

He lets it fall to the floor and they look at each other, Zayn tilting his head down just the littlest bit so he’s perfectly eye to eye with Liam, chests rising and falling as they wait for one of them to break the tension.

It’s Liam. He reaches out slowly, running his fingers down Zayn’s jaw, trailing down to rest on his collarbone. Zayn lets out a small gasp at the touch, sighing into the movement, letting his eyes slip nearly closed. “We have to be quick.” He murmurs, his hand finding the one Liam has on his chest, pressing it flat so it’s resting on his heart, so he can feel its quick beat. “You should get back to your party.”

His words seem to rouse Liam from his trance, nodding once as he pulls his hands away, placing them on the bare skin of Zayn’s hips. “Of course, the party.” He leans closer to Zayn, stepping so they’re nearly chest to chest, forehead to forehead. “People might talk.”

Zayn nods, as if the band isn’t going to notice that they’ve mysteriously disappeared. He’s pretty sure Liam thinks that they’ve managed to keep this stupid thing some big secret, as if Niall doesn’t hug Zayn extra hard the days after, like Louis doesn’t hold his hand during breakfast and shoot him sympathetic glances. Like Harry doesn’t stand that much closer to him when Danielle is around, doesn’t hold him when he finally breaks down, or whisper comfort in his ear because he knows what its like to watch someone you love be with someone else.

But he plays along, because if Zayn can pretend Liam might love him, Liam can make up whatever stories he wants.”No one is going to notice.”

Liam nods, eyes flicking down to Zayn lips, fingers tight on his skin. Zayn winds his arms around Liam’s shoulders, pulling him that much closer. “Last time?” He asks, dark eyes serious, tinged just the littlest bit with fear.

Zayn doesn’t answer, leaning up to stop the words with a kiss. When they’re kissing, when Liam isn’t saying anything, it feels like maybe this is more than just fucked up casual sex.

Liam doesn’t protest, pressing them against the sink, hands leaving Zayn to brace himself against the porcelain. It’s slow, deep and open mouthed, overpowering in the way that Zayn likes. It’s less like kissing Liam and more like being kissed by him, as his inhibitions leave and he takes and takes what Zayn is glad to give him.

His tongue is searching, drawing a low noise of approval from Zayn that echoes around the room. This is so familiar, routine, like when they sing together and the harmonies fit just perfectly. It’s beautiful, no matter how many times it happens.

He can feel Liam growing hard against his leg and it’s gratifying, because Liam wants him, no matter how much he can rationalize that this is nothing. It makes it better somehow, and Zayn ruts up against him, soft moans escaping his mouth.

“You’re really beautiful.” Liam murmurs against his lips, the words sounding a little bit like a confession, and they almost draw a smile out of Zayn. He threads his hands up into Liam’s hair instead, wishing he could kiss the promise away so he wouldn’t have to think of it when Liam’s standing at the altar and he doesn’t think Zayn is beautiful anymore.

Liam trails his lips down Zayn’s jaw, kissing possessively down his neck, red blooming under where his mouth stops. They’ll stay for days, and every time Zayn looks in the mirror he’ll see them like tiny reminders of what he doesn’t quite have. He’ll be sitting in the pews in his expensive suit a week from now, tiny bruises marking his neck as Danielle walks down the aisle. It’s almost symbolic really; she gets Liam and he gets pain that stays just a little too long.

Zayn pulls his hands down, drawing them down Liam’s chest and working at the buttons of his pants, fumbling with them for a moment until they come undone. Liam pulls his hips back, letting Zayn push the fabric down just like they’ve done so many times before, and he thinks that cheating shouldn’t feel quite so familiar.

Liam gets his pants down his thighs and Zayn smirks at the way his erection tents his boxers, until Liam gets those down too and it stops being quite so funny. He meets Liam’s eyes, a silent acknowledgement that this doesn’t have to go any further, that they’re about to cross over into the point of no return. It’s not like Zayn’s having second thoughts, his cock is pressed tight against his zipper and there’s an urgent kind of need in his veins as he watches Liam, but there’s always this moment of question where Liam gets to prove that he’s just as bad of a person as Zayn is.

Liam gives a quick nod, hands moving to the buttons of Zayn's pants as he slides out of his shoes and lets Liam take them nearly off, stepping out of them as they slide to his ankles. 

Liam grabs him by the waist them, pressing him hard against the cold tile, the sensation making Zayn’s back arch away from the wall, an aborted kind of gasp escaping his lips. It’s too much and not half enough, but before he can sort out just why he feels so twisted inside there are hands on the backs of his thighs, hoisting him up so his ankles are crossed and pressed against Liam’s back. 

He likes the way Liam’s muscles strain as he holds him up, the way he has to clutch at Liam’s neck to stay in place, how this lets him just hold on and take it, lips hot against his neck, cock pressed against his stomach. 

He feels fingers as they press up into him, stretching him open as Liam’s tongue traces the lines of the ink on his collarbone, searing the words onto his skin. He tips his head forward, breathing into Liam’s hair and trying to stay coherent. “Do you have anything?”

Liam doesn’t stop his motions, adding another finger. “No, don’t you?”

Zayn shakes his head, a few stray strands of hair coming down into his eyes. “It’s fine.”

Liam pauses, even as Zayn lets out a displeased murmur. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Zayn lets out a dry laugh, digging his nails into the back of the other boy’s neck with a vindictive rush. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”

Liam’s eyes seem to teeter the line between needy and apologetic. “Zayn I-”

He cuts him off. “I can handle it, Liam.”

He swallows, nodding slowly like he’s still afraid. Zayn lets out an impatient sigh, taking Liam’s free hand and licking down his palm, then coating Liam’s cock in the thin layer of spit, smearing around the precum that’s already formed at the tip. “There, happy?”

Liam has that stupid look in his eyes thats something like worry and a bit more like tenderness, pupils dilated with want he’s given up trying to control as he lines himself up. “I never meant to hurt you.” The words spill out suddenly, like he wasn’t really planning to say them at all.

It makes Zayn’s chest contract in the most painful way, emotions clashing about inside his veins until he isn’t sure what he’s feeling anyone. He leans down to press his forehead to Liam’s, breathing his plea into the other boy’s mouth. “Don’t do this right now.”

Liam nods, pressing his lips to Zayn’s as he pushes in, a long slow burn that makes both of them brace against each other, biting their lips through it until they’re as close as they can possibly be.

Liam’s hips stutter just the smallest bit, a soft groan growing in his throat as he finally stops. “Tell me when to move.”

Zayn nods, eyes squeezed shut as he adjusts, nails clawing against Liam’s back in a way he knows is going to mark. He holds steady, taking long quivering breaths, his head swimming with the feeling.

He can feel Liam losing restraint beneath him, hands trembling the smallest bit. “God please I,” He dips his head against Zayn’s shoulder, lips warm against the skin there. “I love you.”

Zayn shakes his head, rolling his hips and relishing in the way Liam shakes underneath him. “Don’t fucking say that. Don’t fucking say that to me.”

Liam looks up, a painful cocktail of emotions in his eyes, apologies rising to his tongue. Zayn shakes his head and kisses him gently, an apology of his own. When he speaks, its in a whisper. “Just move.”

He does, slow thrusts that make Zayn gasp out curses as he’s pushed harder and harder against the wall, ankles on Liam’s lower back easing him as far in as he can go. Zayn lets his head clear, lets himself sink into the movement and the way he can’t quite breathe properly as Liam’s thrusts become more insistent, faster as he builds up a rhythm.

He can hear their heaving breaths as they echo in the empty bathroom, the din of the music outside barely audible over the rush of his own heartbeat. He moans when Liam hoists him just a little bit higher from where he’s slipped, finding a new angle that makes Zayn go pliant beneath him. “There just-” A pause. “Get your hand on me.”

Liam nods like he doesn’t trust himself to speak, using one hand to brace Zayn up and the other to wrap around his cock, messy strokes bringing him so close he can almost taste it. Liam brings his mouth to Zayn’s jaw, sucking more bruises to his skin with a fiery insistence, and Zayn wonders idly if Liam wants everyone to see.

And then there are teeth on his neck and he’s pushed over the edge, rough and fast, heat rising underneath his skin. He can feel his body contract, pulling Liam close as he rides out his release. He feels it as Liam does the same, a rare curse falling from his mouth as he shudders against Zayn’s arms, filling him up.

Zayn thinks vaguely that they probably would have stayed like that forever, pressed chest to sticky chest, legs wound up in each other, if Liam’s arms didn’t finally start to shake.

Liam pulls out, sliding Zayn carefully down onto the floor like he’d afraid he’s broken him, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek as he stands, looking down at the dark haired boy.

Zayn reaches for the roll of paper, wiping himself off with unsteady hands. 

Liam pauses halfway through getting his pants back on. “Do you want me to...?”

Zayn shakes his head, mouth pressed in a firm line. “No.”

“Are you-”

He interrupts this time, reaching for his boxers and pulling them up, fitting the elastic just under his hipbones. “Turn on the fan, I’m going to have a smoke.”

Liam obliges, not taking his eyes from Zayn as he digs around his jacket pocket, pulling out first his silver cigarette case and then a lighter. Liam moves back to the wall, taking a moment to clean off his chest, giving his reflection a once over in the mirror before he sits down next to Zayn.

“I can light it for you, if you’d like.” He offers, and Zayn hands him the lighter, placing the cigarette between his teeth. Zayn likes that Liam looks almost earnest, like he knows he’s done something bad and it trying his best to fix it but doesn’t quite know how. Zayn lets him try, watching as his fingers flick unsteadily at the catch. 

The lighter comes alight after a long moment and Zayn sucks in as Liam brings the flame to the tip of his cigarette, the side of his mouth lifting crookedly upwards as smoke fills his lungs.

“You smirk a lot when you’re upset.” Liam observes, placing the lighter on the ground, his eyebrows knitting together. 

Zayn takes the cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers, blowing a thin stream of smoke in Liam’s face. “You scrunch your face up when you’re worried about things you can’t fix.”

Liam’s face falls a bit at that, his lips pressed together as he stares Zayn down. After a long moment, he holds a hand out. “Can I?”

“Really?” Zayn’s eyebrows raise just the smallest bit, pressing the cigarette to Liam’s nervous fingers. He holds it like it’s about to fall apart in his hands, looking a bit daunted as he raises it to his still swollen lips.

He shoots Zayn a sideways glance as he sucks inward, taking the filter away from his lips as he breathes haltingly outward, eyes watering. Zayn laughs, an almost cruel sound that he belies with a half smile, retrieving the cigarette from Liam’s clumsy grasp and taking a long drag.

Liam coughs a bit, eyes still on Zayn. “Looks a bit hot when you do it.”

Zayn blows out a few lazy smoke rings that dissolve as they float upward. “I know.” He reaches his free hand out to take Liam’s, threading their fingers together in a way that’s probably going to hurt later.

Liam starts to pull away, a slight air of panic to the movement, but Zayn stares him down. “Hold my fucking hand, Liam.”

He nods, looking just a little bit lost. He’s not the Liam who answers questions in interviews anymore, or the one who pins Zayn against walls, but the one who doesn’t know how to smoke, who’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be doing anymore. Not that Zayn really knows either. “Okay.”

Zayn nods back, blowing a long stream of smoke into the air and not failing to notice the way Liam’s eyes linger just a little too long on his lips.

“I meant what I said you know.” Liam says, fixing his eyes firmly on a spot on the wall across from them. “You really are beautiful.”

Zayn shakes his head, wishing Liam didn’t feel the need to talk through his feelings, that they could just sit on the cold tile together and Zayn could not think for one fucking second. “You going to start quoting the album at me? Have I got that one thing too?”

Liam just makes that face at him, the one that’s sadness laced with disapproval. “Zayn.” It’s reproachful, a request for him to please play nice.

Zayn glowers, crossing his arms over his bare chest, tapping a bit of ash out on the floor. “Leeyum.”

“You’re beautiful, Zayn.” Liam repeats, this time meeting his eyes, the sincerity in his gaze just a little bit painful. It’s then that Zayn is sure of something he’s suspected for a while; that Liam has no fucking clue what he’s doing.

He takes in a quick breath, spitting out the question that’s been bugging him for months. “Li, why the fucking hell are you even marrying her?”

Liam freezes for a moment, guilt clouding his gaze, sparked with a bit of defiance. Zayn’s wonders if he’s as easy to read. “Because I love her.”

“Do you?” Zayn asks, taking a quick inhale and blowing it out into Liam’s face. “Do you really really love her?”

He falters, eyes flicking down to Zayn’s lips, then to their hands, finally settling on a space somewhere near his collarbone. “Of course.”

Zayn just shakes his head, leaning forward so their lips are nearly touching, relishing in the way Liam looks just this side of overwhelmed. “Well then why are you cheating on her?”

That seems to bring him back to reality, head shaking as Zayn continues to corner him, feeling just a little bit vindictive. “It’s not cheating, I mean, since you’re a guy and I’m...” He trails off, looking away as Zayn moves to straddle him, sitting down firmly on his thighs and taking a long drag from his cigarette, expelling the smoke against Liam’s jawline in something close to a kiss. 

Zayn pulls back to stare at him, eyebrows raised, expression slightly petulant. “Tell me more about how you aren’t cheating, Liam.”

Liam seems torn between kissing him, hitting him, and crying. Zayn likes it probably more than he should. “I hate you sometimes.” He says finally, through gritted teeth.

Zayn deflates a little, laying a hand on Liam’s shoulder and running the pad of his thumb over his skin. “I hate me sometimes too.”

Liam shakes his head, taking Zayn’s face in his hands with a movement that seems to surprise both of them. “Don’t. I should have stopped this a long time ago. I wanted to, I just-” The next bit is a confession. “I can’t make myself not want you.”

Zayn nods, kisses Liam quickly on the lips. “You’re fucked up, Liam Payne.”

This draws an embarrassed laugh from the younger boy’s mouth. “I guess that’s fair.”

Zayn slides off of him, pulling Liam to his feet, the chill of the bathroom finally beginning to seep into his bones. “Sort yourself out.” He says, stubbing the ember out on the sink and moving to pull on his pants.

“Wouldn’t know where to start.” Liam says, sliding his shirt on with a tired kind of familiarity. “You know that.”

Zayn shakes his head, a rueful half smirk curling across his face. “I do.” He goes for his shirt, doing it up and shoving it into the waist of his pants. “See you at the reception then.” 

Liam’s head jerks up. “Yeah. I mean- uh, yeah.”

Zayn just nods, sliding his jacket on and pulling another cigarette from the pocket. “Go back to the party, Liam. Try not to look too much like you just fucked your bandmate in the bathroom.”

Liam blushes, nodding. “Yeah.” He straightens out his clothes, managing to look at least halfway put together. “I really am sorry I can’t be- You know...”

Zayn just shakes his head, something like satisfaction curling up in his stomach as he lights up. “Party. Go.”

Liam nods, pulling the door slightly open, his eyes lingering just a little bit too long on Zayn. “Bye.”

Zayn gives him a two finger wave, smoke curling out of his mouth. “Bye.”

The door closes with a snap, leaving Zayn alone in the bathroom, smoke winding up around his face as he leans up against the sink, doing up the button on his jacket and sweeping his hair back. It’s a mess, he knows, but it looks a bit hot disheveled. Some vain part of him knows he does too.

He takes a long drag, liking the way the smoke fills his lungs, rolling his shoulders back because he knows they’re going to be stiff in the morning. 

He’s blowing smoke rings at the ceiling when the door slams open, some half-drunk guy pulling a face as he walks in. “Fucking smells like sex in here!” His eyes fall on Zayn. “You aren’t supposed to smoke in here man, what the fuck?!”

Zayn just smiles toothily, tapping a little bit of ash onto the floor as he makes for the door, shooting the guy a wink as he passes. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> You guys this was supposed to be short. SHORT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed my ridiculous porn. (:


End file.
